


Nostalgia Hurts

by Faithful_Sigyn



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst, Backstory, Gen, Just generally sad really, Letter to your future self, Past Child Abuse, Ranked Teen and Up because of potentially triggering topic, References to Ed being autistic, Since that's not always a common thing I've noticed, Young Edward Nygma, writing about his asshole father
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-11-20 12:22:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11335560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faithful_Sigyn/pseuds/Faithful_Sigyn
Summary: Edward finds a letter he wrote to his future self as a child, and is forced to face memories and emotions he usually tries his hardest to ignore.





	Nostalgia Hurts

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt by alloftheprompts on Tumblr (re-posted from my blog, thepuzzlepirate):  
> 3\. As a child, your character wrote a letter to their future self.
> 
> I've not posted any angst up yet so thought it was about time I did, since this is much more my forte than fluff =P.

It had been years since he’d seen the pale green stationary that now rested in his hands, while his eyes traced across the exceptionally neat handwriting that felt just as familiar and just as distant as the texture of the paper itself. He recognised it of course: it was the exact same set he’d owned as a boy, picked up from some silly little shop because it had looked pretty but then never really used, because who did he have to send letters to? And of course, it was easy to see that the writing on the front of the envelope was his too, if a little larger and straighter than the way he wrote now. There was no address written though, just a name. His name. 

Always odd, seeing something addressed to you from you, but it was starting to stir a memory. Years ago, hadn’t he hidden a letter to himself, in the hopes he would read it in the future? There were email systems that could do that now too, it was still a popular activity apparently. That was as far as the memory extended though - he couldn’t remember what he’d written about of course, but he found a little flurry of excitement begin to build inside him as he turned over the envelope to carefully tease the letter out of it. 

Thank goodness he’d decided to look through his old things! He’d been aiming to locate one of his old puzzle books, one he had a very specific recollection of because there had been one page in there he’d never managed to complete. To this day, he was still certain it had been because of a typo, and he now had the authority to confirm that was the case if he could _just_ locate the page again. He still intended to finish looking for it later, but the small green rectangle that had fallen from the pages of one of his old school textbooks had captured his interest for now.

The handwriting on the letter inside had Ed smiling slightly before he’d even begun to read it. Nostalgia was odd; he never really thought about his childhood, for good reason in his opinion, but he was strangely happy to just get this opportunity to glimpse into a fragment of it. With the emotion still tugging at the corner of his lips, he straightened the paper out in his hands, and let his gaze begin to scan down the page.

> _Dear Me,_
> 
> _I hope this letter finds you well. As I write this I am nine years old, but I don’t know how old you are. I’m going to hide this really well so dad can’t find it, so it might be a while before it gets dug out again. I got the idea for this from school. We had to do one in class and then the teacher collected them in, but I think she’s just going to throw them away and I wanted to make sure the future me actually got to read one. This one’s a bit more personal too because she wouldn't have wanted to read the boring stuff, I'm sure. Oh yeah, and the idea was we had to start every paragraph with ‘I hope’, so I’m going to try and do that too._
> 
> _I hope life is good to you. That seems like a good place to start. I don’t know what I want to do yet for a job, but you probably have a great career, and you’re probably making loads of money and showing everyone how clever you are. You should be doing anyway. If you’re not, go do it now! And if you ever manage to invent time travel, you should come back and tell me what you’re doing so I can actually give an answer when we do the ‘World of Work’ day next week because I don’t know what to say at the moment._
> 
> _I hope you’re still super clever at your age. I hope that stays, I’m already smarter than some of the adults I’ve met so it seems likely. I hope we stay top of the class every year, and I hope everyone gets to see how well we’re doing and gets really jealous of us! I hope the teachers are really proud of how well we’re doing too, and I hope they give us prizes and stuff to show it._
> 
> _I hope we keep getting better at some of the hard things too. I don’t mean in academics or anything, I’m doing really well at school, obviously. I mean some of the things I get told off for, I hope we get better at those. Like not asking too many questions, and not ignoring people when they talk to us, and not talking for too long about ‘boring things’._
> 
> _I hope we get better at those because I don’t like what happens when I get it wrong. So I hope that doesn’t happen to you anymore. I hope it stops really soon actually. I don’t cheat anymore. I only did once, and I know I shouldn’t have, so I think I deserved it when dad hit me for that. But I’m trying really hard not to upset him again, so I hope it works. I know sometimes I don’t understand why he does it, so I’m not sure I know exactly what I’m doing wrong every time, but if I just keep trying to get better then I’m sure it’ll all stop eventually. So what I’m trying to say I think is I hope that happens soon. I know it’ll all be better by the time you read this. You’ll probably be laughing at how silly I’m being about it. That makes me feel better actually._
> 
> _I hope I won’t get in trouble for getting found out again as well, because I’ve got really good at hiding the bruises so nobody asks about them. I hope that carries on working, but I suppose you’ll know if it does or not. I suppose I shouldn’t be focusing on this so much, I didn’t include any of this in the letter for school after all. I can’t remember what I wrote for that one though. I know a lot of kids wrote about their parents and I suppose I’m sort of doing that now._
> 
> _I hope one day we make dad proud too. Because I do think we’re clever, even if he doesn’t see it yet._
> 
> _Good luck doing whatever you’re doing!  
>  Edward Nygma_

The paper was already partly crumpled in the hand that had shifted into a fist as he’d read its contents, and it took Ed a few moments more before he could do anything more than centre his focus on keeping his breathing level and calm. He wasn’t even certain what emotion this was. Anger? It must have been something like that, but it was warped by the odd sense of fear the memories from this silly little letter had stirred up. He could remember writing those words now, at least vaguely anyway. That excessive amount of ‘hope’ had been more than just a linguistic device enforced by the class teacher - it had been how he’d really felt at the time. It had been part of a desperate desire to picture the future as a bright one, because his present was so dim. 

And if this channel of communication could actually open both ways, if he suddenly did invent time travel to go back and talk to his younger self about what his future had entailed… what would he tell him? This bright-eyed child surely wouldn’t condone Ed’s current course of action, even if he knew now that this was truly who he was. He could at least impress the kid with his continued cleverness - though he hadn’t been at all surprised to remember how important that was even to his younger shelf. And as for not getting into so much trouble with his father… well… he was out of that house now, yes, but that had been when it had finally stopped, and not a moment before. It wasn’t until he was physically out of his father’s reach that he stopped bearing the brunt of his aggression.

It was strange almost, that he was still so shaken up by just the recollection of such events, when he was surely more than capable of dealing with such a monster now. But even with a body count as large as his, even with a criminal record to rival any of the other Rogues of Gotham, even with the confidence he exuded in seemingly every aspect of his life from his wardrobe to his eccentric love of riddles… he didn’t think he was brave enough to face that man again.

He’d tried to once. He’d made it to the street of his house too, only a couple of minute’s walk away from the familiar front door, when he’d suddenly frozen up. It didn’t make any sense; Ed was an intimidating man now, someone who could and would do damage to anyone who tried to cross him. People feared him, they actively backed away when they saw the familiar question mark cane he sported. He was strong now, so much stronger than back then. And yet he couldn’t bring himself to move any closer. The fantasy of getting his revenge, levelling the score finally, returning the favour for all those years of mistreatment with a few choice attacks of his own… it shattered in that moment, and Ed found himself fleeing the scene without taking a single step closer.

It was… embarrassing, that even after so many years apart his father still held so much power over him that just the idea of seeing him again was enough to have The Riddler running away with his tail between his legs.

He hadn’t noticed the paper beginning to shake in his fingers, as the tension building up in his fist became harsh enough to send tremors through his hand. He only released his grip when he finally caught the movement out of the corner of his eye, and he quickly took the opportunity to fold the letter closed again. He slid it back into the envelope, and his hand hesitated for a moment as he turned towards the fireplace on the other side of the room. This had done nothing but stir up bad memories, he wanted nothing more to do with it, but… he couldn’t help but picture little nine-year-old Eddie, sealing the envelope off, giddy with excitement for when the letter inside would see the light of day again. How disappointed would he be to know it was now being discarded so callously?

Ed was not a hugely sentimental person, so it was much to his own surprise that he felt his hand retracting and bringing the letter back towards him. A few moments more of internal struggling, and the envelope found itself tucked into the inner pocket of his jacket. Which didn’t mean anything, it just meant he would throw it out later. For now though… well, he wasn’t sure he’d be inventing a time machine any time soon, but perhaps the letter (which despite the absurdity of the notion, was quickly becoming the embodiment of his younger self in his head), would enjoy coming along on a day in the life of The Riddler. Because although it might not have been exactly how he’d imagined his life would pan out back when he was nine, Edward was _damn proud_ of how far he’d come.


End file.
